


Choking

by explicitly_fandroid



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Don't Try This At Home, M/M, Trauma, coming to terms with your kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitly_fandroid/pseuds/explicitly_fandroid
Summary: Since that incident with Gul Madred Picard lost his self-confidence. He needs to come to terms with his dark fantasies.Post Chain of Command.





	Choking

Picard trembled despite the heat in the room. He was naked and knelt next to his bed, staring at the floor. He was sitting here since about ten minutes only, still these ten minutes had already been enough to push him deep into his darkness. His cock, half erect, reminded him of how twisted he was.

He had needed a while to admit before himself that the darkness was there. It had been painful, all those nights when he stepped onto that road which connected only two distinct memories, forbidden during the day but all too present in the solitude of his bed. It had been painful, all those nights when he travelled back and forth between Gul Madred, soothing him through the torture he inflicted upon him, and Data, possessed and menacing, gripping his throat and lifting him up, up in the air, until there was only wheezing, choking, his vision blackening in on him. It had been painful, all those nights when he frantically handled his cock, jerking off to hot, embarrassed tears.

And now he was here. He slowly stretched his legs, allowing the blood to flow, then sat back into his position. He was still somewhat taken aback by his own courage. He had asked. He had seriously asked for this. And he had been successful. They had done this before, this was their fifth meeting. It turned out to be a lifeline.

Picard breathed. Suspense sat in the back of his cranial bones, stretching the skin tight over his face. He heard the blood rushing through his ears, he heard his heart pumping in his throat. He was alive. And he had found his place.

After nights and nights of terror he had finally managed to go to the counsellor, and haltingly told her about his fears, the tears, those hideous phantasies, never daring to look at her.  
“Captain,” she had said, “sometimes, if a person has experienced trauma, it can be healing to reenact the experience in a safe setting. As well as it can be healthy to transform life-threatening situations into erotic ones. I don’t know if you feel up to it, but you might as well go and ask him.” At that time it had been a ridiculous thought. And it had been contagious. 

Ever since his days with Gul Madred something had broken inside him. And he waited for them to notice. It was all there. The panic. The nightly tears. His trembling hands. It was as if he was playing a part and one day it would all come out, gush to the surface of his well performed Captain-of-the-Enterprise-shell and crush it to show everyone, he was not worth it. He was a puny excuse of a captain. A dirt-crawling, wriggling joke, defeated, broken. He knew he would have done everything, simply everything that man had asked of him.

The world froze when he heard the doors open and close again. No backing down now. As if there ever had been the faintest possibility to do so. He looked up as Data strode into his bedroom, all dressed in black. Picard stared at his pale face. It was stern and unmoved as ever. Lovably naïve, he would say, if they were on the bridge. Mercilessly ice-cold on nights like these.

“It is good to see that you have assumed your position.” Data came to a halt before him, much too close, and since Picard couldn’t lift his head high enough to see his face, he let it hang instead. Which was much more adequate anyway. Tentatively he touched one of Data’s shoes and stroked it gently.

“No,” Data said simply and Picard pulled his hand back. The levelled voice wrote icy trails through his stomach. No, of course, what was he thinking. “I am sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to,” and, “Quiet.” A calm menace. How could one word carry so much contempt? Picard shrank back. He felt a sob in his chest that was running the risk of tearing him apart.

Data got down on one knee and lifted his right hand. For seconds it hung in the air between them. Picard followed it with his eyes, mesmerised. A shivering moan left his lips as Data began to touch his face, ever so lightly, wandered over his jaw, brushed his lips. He fixed his gaze upon the android’s face, longing to witness what would come. He felt the heat in his cheeks, his lips parted in pleasure and his cock was rock-hard.

And suddenly it came. Data jutted his chin out, bared his teeth and had his hand around Picard’s throat in one swift motion. Picard jumped and gasped and clasped Data’s arm. His heart was racing. He could feel everything, the long fingers gently closing around his neck, the artificial muscles in the android’s forearm, hard and unrelenting. He knew he could fight, but Data would never budge.

Data stood up and he had to follow, stumbling to his feet. “You will lose this battle, might as well give in now.” The android set his jaw and slowly lifted him off his feet and into the air. There came the pain. And the panic. He was choking. Desperately he clutched Data’s arm and tried to hold himself up on it. There was too much blood in his head. He tasted iron. The world grew dark at the edges of his vision, he wheezed, he choked. His body began to spasm and he spluttered helplessly.

“Are you ready to be put in your place?” Data snarled, and, yes, yes, yes, he was. He heard himself beg, his voice a raw wound, he would do everything, wheezing, pleading for Data to let him down. And he did. Picard’s thrashing feet found solid ground and with numb hands he clasped Data’s arm, not to collapse. The android loosened his grip but his hand remained wrapped around Picard’s throat, a silent threat, possessive.

“It is most fortunate that you have come to a decision,” Data’s face settled back into cold indifference. He withdrew his hand and Picard tumbled, fell to the floor and clutched Data’s calves. The tears came and he allowed them to flow, coughing raspy sobs into the android’s trousers.

The android stroked his head, “You are right. That is your place,” he stated calmly.

Picard held on to Data’s legs. This was where he wanted to be, where he belonged. He let go and sank into the darkness, dumping his pride, planting his heart between the feet of this man. And darkness embraced him with pale hands and for tonight his wanderings came to a halt.


End file.
